Nessa shifted her feet. This was it. The proverbial ball was in Maz’s court now.
“J, you coming to eat?” Trevon interrupted the conversation. “Your food is getting cold.”
“J?” Jamison echoed. “Are you Mom?”
“I’m the parent who paid for this food. Are you eating or not?”
“We’re talking about something important,” Jamison said. “Just a few more minutes.”
“Take your time, Trevon said. “I’m sure Carson will heat it up for us.”
Jamison motioned for the nestmates to come closer.
You had better not be whispering, Nessa retorted in her mind, and after a pause, a slight dread set in. And I had better have ended the mental link.
Nessa scooted closer and strained to listen.
“The younger race is in trouble,” Jamison told his friends. “Their importers cut off all trade. They cannot self-sustain.”
His announcement was met by crossed arms, smirks, and exchanges among the nestmates. Finally, Skyla spoke up: